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Warming up to it,
up and down strokes from the neck.
Pulling away the essence of you,
in the moment I don't hate these cigarettes.

Just a little stressed out today.

Line a few shots,
bullets of your strongest brandy.
Giving all I got,
truthfully I don't love the drink that gladly.

Just a little stressed out today.

Let me have a taste of a body,
acting if I can solve my problems with ***.
Sure in the moment I'm giving my best,
straight afterwards I ask myself what's next?

Just a little stressed out today.

Lock my eyes on the many screens,
that I even forget to blink.
Wishing I could live their lives,
not too long, just for a week.

Just a little stressed out today.

Why must I run to coping mechanisms,
doing in my head at times?
Not trying to live up to the hype,
but out here believing the lies.
I know I'm stressed out sometimes,
but those sort of things aren't my life.

But I'm still just a little stressed out today.
I tried to be mindful

but my mind is too full
the overthinker's first and final words
I don't know how
dumb folks can simply
place their brains on break.

Mine likes to cycle overtime,
swishing by
at double time and breakneck

It's faar past time for my mind
to select a simpler pastime,
try shouting: "Doh!" and "Duuh"

Psst, kid! Just promise me this:
When we corral all
the world's Dodo birds
onto our "Pluto Spaceship,"
We will ask em where they found
their common sense's off switch.

But we better get to it, quick!
My mind is running a dozen
miles per minute;
And your good sense seems
almost spent
My Grandma used to say: "The whole world is crazy except for you and me, and even you bear watching!"
She passed in March. I miss her.
We keep her little sayings going, and they keep us going
If there's anything that serves as a guide
If there's an instruction manual out there
Titled "How to get through what you're feeling"
Or "For Dummies- Life's a *****, it's not fair"
I'd read it, I'd absorb every word, every phrase
I'd apply it to myself, I'd help others facing the same
I won't be frozen, I won't be struck speechless
I hope I'm not playing an impossible game
Tell me the lessons, I'll get through the tests
Lend me blueprints, cryptographs, codes, a sign
Don't leave me in the dust, paralyzed, numb
Don't make me pretend like everything's fine.
Zoe Grace Jun 5
Who knew I could be so
But so
at the same time?  

It seems like my emotions are chosen at
               R                                      D

jon May 17
My momma always tried her hardest
Growing up I made decisions that weren’t the smartest
Yet she’s still trying the best she can,
Depression hits, I know for her it’s the toughest.
She beats herself up.
Now, that is the roughest.
The past is the past but I don’t control what she does
I know because sometimes she lets things slip out in the mornings when we drink coffee from my favorite cup.
Life isn’t what it was.
Life is what it is.
I often reminisce on the best memories we have and when I think of life now, all I can say is what the ****?

It’s depression;
But it’s also me fighting myself and I hit so hard I end up in the hospital where I find my repression
Of all the emotions I numb out.
I can feel it through my body and that’s a knockout defeat for me.
I feel like life’s doubt.
If life were actually alive, I wonder if it’d survive.
Tina, please help me forget about life.
One inhale is all it takes to feel alright.
Make me forget about everything at least for the night.
I have mental issues but you can help by actually following through.
Hold on, I’m a little emotional I might need a tissue.

It’s bipolar;
People tell me to calm down.
When I’m manic I’m no where to be found.
The thoughts inside my head scream so ******* loud.
Trust me, my mood swings are the worst to be around.
I keep fighting but end up with my *** on the ground.
My insides are tearing themselves apart and it’s a constant war zone between my head and heart.
I don’t know when this all began, all I know is that my emotions control me and that leaves my fuel tank empty.

Theres the manic episodes;
The highs and lows of my constant panic mode,
The hypersensitive, the hypersexual, and my inability to be flexible,
My manic episodes lead me down a twist and turn road,
They take me for a ride and let me cry for weeks in my bed,
They let me talk about what’s going on inside my head,
They won’t lock me up for wishing I was dead,
My manic episodes don’t care they destroy and they constantly bulldoze.

It’s the anxiety;
The constant fear and worry.
The wondering if someone’s going to hate me because I’m in the clear.
The scorpions in my stomach, stinging me.
It’s crippling.
It’s worrying.
I can’t do anything.
Thats codependency but I need it.
I need you mostly and another hit.

It’s the brain injuries;
I can’t remember a **** thing.
I only remember strange little details like peoples clothing and if they’ve worn it for consecutive days.
I haven’t always been this way and I don’t feel okay.
I can’t make phone calls.
I can’t make my bed without getting too inside my head,
I get lost easily and then no one can find me.
I can’t remember the days anymore it’s like my brain is shutting doors and
My eyes are waterfalls all because I can’t make one call.

It’s the grief;
I still can’t believe they’re all dead.
I only have spiritual conversations with them or when I’m hallucinating off drugs.
I miss everyone’s love, especially my dads last hug.
So I do a drug to forget the pain but now I’m getting so high I can’t remember my own name or the day.
I know I have nothing to gain from my actions but I don’t care and I don’t know how to
Without you.

Most of all it’s the trauma;
Others call it drama when they don’t love you, They’re rough and tough.
Well, I’ve had enough of,
They try to bubble wrap you, I’ve done some stupid things so I would too.
I can’t get out on the outside to look inside because my eyes are always dodging contact.
Trauma is a gateway, some days you’re so dysfunctional even your own lawyer stops and asks if you’re okay.
Small little fact; we’ve only talked on the phone, never in person. Just when I was in jail alone where the world denies that I’m male.
If I were to weigh my trauma there’s not a big enough scale and the only one I see nowadays is when I abuse myself and pick up.
When I go there, my thoughts turn back to having coffee with my momma from my favorite cup.
Excerpt of how my mental struggles affect me.
These hands art weary from
Juggling heavy tribulations
Thrown towards Me at supersonic
By life and humanity, working
In harmony, snatching away
Whatsoever joy comes my way
At any given moment
Of course.

Today is but a twin of yesterday,
Bearing the same cruel whip
My back has tasted far too
Many times.

Each chapter thus far, chronicling
My accounts I narrowly endure is
Penned by Yahweh,
The author behind my hardships.

Whilst optimism screams Into
My stubborn ears, logic persuades
Me my final chapter will be much
The same.
So Let me burn my partial
Story, Prematurely.
Jenny Biller May 5
every day -
hustling and bustling
eating and sleeping
ever week -
Monday to Friday
nine to five
every year -
working and holidaying
waiting and longing
to be free.
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